


Happy Birthday, Mick

by fckyeahgallavich



Series: Happily Ever Afters Are for Yuppies [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Happy Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Ian gets creative, Light Angst, M/M, Mickey Milkovich feels loved, Prison Sex, prison birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 13:34:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20193115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fckyeahgallavich/pseuds/fckyeahgallavich
Summary: Ian realizes that Mickey's birthday is coming up in a week! He has nine days to get surprises under way to make Mickey feel loved and cared for on HIS day! But being in prison, options are pretty limited and Ian's going to have to get a lot of help.Happy birthday Mickey Milkovich!





	Happy Birthday, Mick

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion fic to Contained But Unrestrained but you do not need to have read CBU to enjoy this :)  
This fic was inspired by a few anons on my CC who wanted to see Mickey's birthday, and a couple of friends who helped me think of some GREAT surprises for Mickey. Thanks to southernfriedblondebitch and one of my dear twitter friends for the idea development and excitement!

A wave of self-loathing coated Ian’s center as he took in the date printed at the top of the commissary request form.

Was it  _ already  _ August first? 

It had snuck up so  _ fast  _ and… and all of the attention had been on himself so he hadn’t thought of a  _ single fucking thing  _ to do for Mickey’s birthday coming up in  _ barely  _ over a week!

As Ian filled out the request for the snacks Ian and Mickey both agreed on, he realized he had an amazing opportunity here… Mickey was never one to celebrate his birthday. Every year there was  _ something  _ to get in their way from celebrating their birthdays. It was absolute insanity that it was almost ten years ago that they got… involved? Was that the only appropriate word?

Well, they had been together for a long-ass time and only now were they finally going to celebrate a birthday. And how perfect was it that the first birthday boy probably hadn’t even given a second thought to the calendar? This gave Ian the  _ perfect  _ chance to surprise him!

Ian smothered his smile as he handed the request form back to the guard, quashing all excitement as he turned to Mickey.

“Got a legal pad and ten stamps and envelopes, so I could only get a few bags of Doritos this time,” he announced. Mickey was reclined back on the bunk, hands holding his head up to watch Ian as he spoke.

It wasn’t typical, but Ian felt his breath catch at the sight of his boyfriend and a sudden rush of desire warmed him from the inside out. Even though they were both eager to jump on each other as soon as Ian came back, they’d had a  _ lot  _ to talk about and by the time they’d finished talking neither was particularly excited for sex. So Ian had wound his arm around Mickey’s waist, drawn him in, and slept with his forehead tucked against Mickey’s shoulder and his body curled completely around him — the quintessential big spoon.

That half of a week apart had been enough to renew Ian’s resolve to never be separated and now that he recognized the date, it renewed his determination to prove to Mickey how much he mattered to him.

…..

“Ig,” Ian whispered as Mickey walked away to dump his dinner tray. Iggy, who had already stood halfway from the table, sat back down to look warily at Ian. “I need your help.”

“Why the fuck would you want  _ my  _ help? You’re pissed at me as of just yesterday, remember?”

“Yeah, so you can make everything up to Mickey with this.” Iggy looked over Ian’s shoulder, checking out Mickey’s progress away from them, probably.

“I’m doing it for Mickey. Not for you,” Iggy replied darkly. Ian shrugged, not giving a rat’s ass  _ who  _ he did it for, just so long as Mickey’s birthday came together. As they stood to dump their trays, Ian explained what he needed Iggy to do, the things he needed him to collect. Iggy nodded with each piece that Ian told him.

“That last one might be pretty hard… I don’t have access to the kitchen.”

“But you do to the guard’s breakroom,” Ian pointed out.

“The  _ fuck  _ I do!” He laughed back. Ian tilted his head to the side.

“If you get  _ creative _ , you definitely do,” Ian murmured under his breath as they turned away from the trash cans. Iggy seemed to consider that and continued pondering as they climbed the stairs to get to their cell where Mickey was already relaxing on the top bunk. Ian tuned out the brothers as they talked about business — Ian not even prepared to enter into that fight at the moment. And as Ian and Mickey laid together that night, Ian had to fight his proud grin through every kiss and just make it look like his usual adoring one. Mickey would be able to tell the difference.

**6 Days**

It was damn near impossible to talk to anyone in the kitchens without Mickey noticing. They were always attached to the hip as it was but now it was even more persistent because of their recent separation. Though Ian understood Mickey’s need to keep him nearby at all times, and Ian definitely felt the same, it was proving a hindrance for preparing one of Mickey’s surprises.

Checking that no guards were paying attention, and while Mickey’s back was still turned, Ian slipped the plastic spork from the top of the tray to the bottom, holding it under the grooves in one of the dividers of the tray. As they sat, he smoothly slid the plastic through the groove, concealing it in his large palm, and swiftly tucked it into his pocket. He pretended to reach for a spork that he was anticipating being there and groaned in irritation.

“Forgot a fork, I’ll be right back,” Ian sighed in fake irritation. Though it chanced giving himself away, he kept his arms down by his side to conceal any shift the plastic in his pocket might make as he walked back to the line. 

As expected, a guard tried to stop him from re-entering the line.

“I don’t have a utensil,” Ian explained innocently. The guard glared at him in suspicion but let him pass. He repeated his problem to one of the inmates running the food line and as he started to turn away, Ian glanced around — the guard wasn’t looking — and drew the spork out of his pocket, “wait.” The guy turned around, brows drawn. “I need to ask a favor…”

……

The most challenging surprise was under way and Mickey was none the wiser. The rest of the first part was now in Iggy’s hands.

After breakfast, Ian hopped in line for the phones while Mickey started up a game of poker.

He hadn’t been able to reach any of the Gallaghers since he arrived two months ago and as aggravated as he was at that in itself, he needed to suck that up and keep trying for Mickey’s sake. The surprise would be okay without this part, but call Ian traditional, he also wanted to have the  _ stuff _ aspect of the birthday party — a gift.

He was just preparing to hang up when on the fourth ring Debbie’s alto voice breathed a “Ian?” through the line.

“Debs! Oh God, I can’t believe you picked up!” Ian gushed. He heard some inmates behind him laugh, even mimicking him in an excessively high-pitched voice… But oh well.

“Yeah, sorry, Ian. Things have been nuts around here.” She sounded distant… Like her brain was only a quarter on the conversation and didn’t actually care about what he said. He had to fight the ungrateful part of his own brain that wanted to demand ‘why the fuck would you pick up then?’ But of course then he’d spend the rest of the day sulking that she didn’t pick up and the next two days trying again and again until it was too late, so he shrugged his shoulders to physically remind himself to shake off the irritation. 

“Yeah, things have been pretty crazy in here, too…” Ian murmured.

“You okay?” She asked distantly. It suddenly struck him that it was breakfast time at the Gallagher house. She was getting ready for her day and getting Liam and Franny ready for their days too. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright… Look, Debs, I’ll make this quick. Did you get my letter?”

“What letter?”  _ Okay, well that’s a no, then. _

“Umm… Keep an eye out for a letter from me. It’ll have my inmate number on it so you guys can write back. But, um, that’s not what I called for mostly. What I —”

“I’m sorry, Ian, I’ve gotta pass you on to Carl, I’ve gotta get going. I love you!”

“No, wait — ” But the phone already audibly clacked to the top of the counter. Ian leaned against the wall beside the phone box and exhaled in irritation.

“Ian?” Carl’s deep voice asked.

“Yeah! Hey… Still so weird hearing your voice being lower than  _ mine,”  _ Ian laughed.

“Not that it’s hard,” Carl snarked back playfully. Ian rolled his eyes but his answering smile was probably audible at how tightly it pulled at his cheeks.

“So, bro… I’ve got a couple of favors to ask of you guys…”

……

Carl actually should have been Ian’s first choice, he realized as he hung up the phone. Sure, Debbie was supportive of he and Mickey, and sure she would be willing to do whatever he asked, but she’d be sure to make herself a fucking martyr out of it. Carl was a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ kinda guy. Always had been. If he didn’t want to do something, he’d tell you to go fuck yourself and if he was cool with it he’d say so. Simple. And in the end, he’d been over the moon about Mickey being in prison with him… asked if Ian’s ass was always sore which Ian just ignored in favor of an interesting segue to his idea…

Carl even promised to visit both him  _ and  _ Mickey soon.

“I always thought he was gonna be a part of the family… Kinda sucked when he wasn’t around anymore, especially with the… well, stupid decisions I made right around the same time,” Carl had said as he grabbed a piece of paper and pencil to jot down all of Ian’s requests. Ian had smiled at the sentiment, a soft look that he had to hide into the wall so that none of the guys saw him in a vulnerable moment, and he’d simply replied that he hoped to fix that mistake of  _ not _ having him in the family.

Stage two of Operation: Mickey’s birthday was under way.

Ian took the stairs two at a time to get to work on the conditions of stage one. The guy had a bum knee that’d been killing him for a while and knowing that, to paraphrase, Gay Jesus had been good with medical shit once upon a time, all he’d wanted was something to make his knee feel better. Since it wasn’t an emergency and the injury didn’t happen in the prison no one took the guy seriously, something that Ian was definitely empathetic to. 

Going into his locker, he pulled out one of his spare tee-shirts. He seriously hated to waste a perfectly good shirt, but he could wash his in the sink if it got rank. Ripping the sleeves off was easy enough, just pulling really hard just below the seam and yanking the rest of the shirt up — good, that’d be a foundation. Now… for the rest. Ugh, fuck, that was going to be a lot harder without scissors. With Mickey’s razor, he worked at shredding against the collar so he could tear straight down and have one big strip. Just as he was doing just that, his ‘patient,’ so to speak, entered the cell.

“That what you’re gonna use to fix my knee?” he asked hopefully. 

“It’s the first thing we’ll try,” Ian replied, grunting as he finished ripping off the strip. “If it doesn’t work, we’ll see what we can do about yanking one from the medical ward. But that’d get my guy in serious trouble if he was caught and he’s already doing plenty of risky shit for this.” 

“That dick must be damn good to give a shit about a cellie’s birthday like this,” the guy huffed, following Ian’s gestured to sit on Mickey’s bunk. When the guy couldn’t roll up his pant leg, though, they realized he’d have to take his uniform mostly off. 

“It’s fine, it’ll just take a second,” Ian murmured. He followed Ian’s directions and Ian worked quickly, sliding the sleeves to rest over his knee and then using the long strip as an ace bandage. “See how I’m using the wrap to both support and compress the knee? You’re going to have to know how to do this every day, so pay attention.”

“Umm…” Ian turned to see Mickey at their doorway, watching in confusion. There was even some hurt on Mickey’s face. Aw, fuck, what did he think was going on?! “Mick! He’s got a shit knee, just asked me to show how he could make it better.” 

Mickey’s bright blue eyes flicked around the image and he nodded before turning on his heel to go back downstairs.

“Didn’t know your man was a jealous type,” the guy laughed, resting back on his palms. Ian jerked the strip to get the guy’s attention.

“You wanna learn this or not?”

…….

_ Sneak into the breakroom, Iggy! It’ll be easy if you get  _ creative  _ Iggy!  _ The older Milkovich mimicked to himself. That ginger was going to get them all thrown into solitary. And like, yeah, his brother was pretty cute, he guessed, but worth  _ that much risk?  _ Jesus, he couldn’t imagine…

Well, he could. Melody.

She was everything Iggy’s dad would have  _ never  _ accepted and suddenly he understood Mick’s determination to see shit through with Ian. If someone was worth it, they were worth it, and that was it. Though he’d rather be busting his ass this hard  _ for  _ Melody, he knew that he’d just have to put her face to everything risky that Ian had asked him to do to ensure he kept everything in perspective. Yeah, he wanted to make shit up to his brother, but he didn’t want to chance solitary for him. But he’d chance solitary for Melody in a heartbeat. So it was her radiant smile that led him to the door of the guard’s breakroom, her keen eye keeping lookout as he slid through the door, damn near pissing himself in relief at the space being empty, and her warmth calming the panic as he searched through their drawers and cabinets.

_ Well I’ll fucking be…  _ Gallagher was right! These guards weren’t the healthnuts people would assume, apparently.

_ Sweet _ !

**2 Days**

Carl confirmed yesterday that everything was in position and the small care-package was on its way. Iggy had passed on the first of his jobs two days ago and those were hiding behind Ian’s stash of snacks, the Ritz crackers that Mickey always made fun of him for having because according to him they didn’t taste like anything. He’d never check there, even if he was starving. 

Ian walked around with a permanent smile, fucking  _ tickled  _ by what he was doing. After the awkward moment with Said, Ian returned to being by Mickey’s side as much as possible. But even so he had to keep checking in on the other parts of his surprises and he could sense Mickey getting more and more irritated with the distance. He knew it wasn’t that Mickey never wanted them to be apart, it was just how soon it was after they were forced apart that irritated him; that they were just recently separated and now Ian was always running off doing Mickey-fucking-knew-what. He got it. But he wasn’t expecting the cold shoulder treatment when he asked that night if Mickey would rather Ian keep the length of his hair but it stay black, or shave it off so he could have the red back.

Mickey had stared at Ian with confusion, brows drawn and mouth set in a grim line. He shook his head and turned away as he unbuttoned his uniform for bed. Ian quirked a brow and unbuttoned his own uniform, shuffling behind Mickey and gently cupping his hips.

“Sorry we didn’t spend much time together the past few days,” he murmured softly into Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey shrugged him off and stripped out of his uniform. 

“Hadn’t noticed,” Mickey grumbled. Ian took a step back in shock.  _ Whoa… _

“Mick…” Mickey just rolled into his bunk, spreading arms and legs to leave  _ no  _ room for Ian. “Mick, you can tell me you’re upset. I know I’ve been runnin around doing other things. I  _ am  _ sorry.” Mickey shrugged.

“We’re in here a while. Should probably limit how much we’re together, don’t want you getting bored.”  _ Whoa!  _ Ian’s eyes exploded in his face, his jaw dropping to the floor. He knew that Mickey might be irritated at how little time they were together over the past few days, but  _ Jesus! _

“Mick! I — ”

“Don’t worry, Gallagher. Like  _ always  _ I’ll be here for you when you want me.” 

“Well you’re not here  _ now!”  _ Ian cried.

“Does it displease you for me to not be ready for you when you want?” Mickey scoffed.  _ Je-Sus!  _

“No, no! That’s not what I meant… I meant this isn’t  _ you.  _ Just…” The air punched out of Ian’s chest. He thought they were past this, past the resentments and the distrust… Like water under the bridge.

Well, apparently there was a dam under that bridge keeping that water back.

“Mickey, I’m not bored of you or whatever, I swear — ”  _ I’m planning your birthday surprises, asshole!  _

Mickey sat straight up in bed and glared up at Ian, an “oh yeah?” in his angry, hurt eyes.

The lights clicked off and the cell plunged into darkness. Ian finished pulling off his uniform, eyes never leaving Mickey’s.

“I promise. I could  _ never.”  _ Mickey opened his mouth to make his argument, and Ian knew it wasn’t fair, but he crashed his lips to Mickey’s before he could say anything. Mickey kissed back with absolutely zero restraint, cupping Ian’s face mere seconds after their lips met. Ian crawled into his bunk to straddle Mickey’s lap. He broke away for a deep breath and looked Mickey straight in the eye as he vowed, “I know there’s still some trust issues there. I get it. But I  _ swear _ , you’re going to understand what’s going on soon, and you’re going to  _ love it.”  _ Mickey’s brows drew in at that and Ian kissed him again. He kissed him so hard that they toppled flat onto Mickey’s mattress where they continued exploring each other and holding each other through the night. Ian had tried to reach for the packet of lube they’d still had yet to use, but Mickey refused.

“Until I know what the fuck is going on, you are  _ not  _ going to distract me with sex. I still ain’t happy with you.” Ian’s head dropped to Mickey’s chest, but he didn’t fight him on it. Shifting his semi in his boxers, he rolled off Mickey to assume his regular position as big spoon and was not the least bit sorry that said semi rested, even downright poked, at the smaller man’s back. He could see the shift in Mickey’s ear, though, to see his smile. They could never be pissed at each other for long. And just before Mickey dozed off, Ian asked again: “So… long and black, or buzzed and red?”

“You got your look, I got mine, Gallagher. Quit stealin mine, it don’t work on you,” Mickey snarked back. Ian laughed into his bicep, trying to keep quiet so that Mickey could fall asleep.

**0 Days**

The day was finally here! Everything was in place, Iggy’d confirmed the last pieces of Mickey’s surprise yesterday, he’d worked out everything with Said to get him into the kitchen, and Carl’s care-package had also arrived yesterday. Mickey was no longer pissed at him and yet was still none-the-wiser. He huffed a contented laugh into Mickey’s neck and his stomach tickled with excited butterflies as he went over everything that he needed to do today.

He was going to start off the day like nothing was going on, like it was a completely normal day and he’d instructed Iggy to do the same. He had to fight with every fiber of his being to keep everything contained as they got dressed. He’d almost lost it when he smiled lovingly at Mickey’s tattooed fingers rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, the UCK curling as he forced his eyes open. He sniffed as always, his lungs sounding so much clearer now that they hadn’t been smoking for a couple of months.

“The fuck’re you grinning at, Gallagher?” Mickey grumbled as he stepped into his uniform.

“You.” Mickey’s brows furrowed in confusion as he stood up to pull his uniform the rest of the way up.

“You really sayin you ain’t sick of seeing me yet?” Ian laughed.

“Not even a little.” Mickey arched his brow and rubbed at his nose in discomfort. He never could handle any sort of compliment, even one so simple as to say  _ Hey, I still like you and actually still want to be around you. _

“Don’t worry, there’s time.” Ian could tell that this time, Mickey was joking (thank God). He was planning on keeping it a complete surprise but…  _ damn him _ he blurted a question out before he could stop himself!

“You know what day it is?” Though he had blurted it, he’d still asked it casually. Like he wanted to date a journal entry and couldn’t recall.

“Saturday,” Mickey replied simply.

“No, no. The  _ date!”  _ Mickey stopped and had to think about it. He could almost hear Mickey asking himself ‘what day  _ was  _ it?’

“Jesus… Is it the 10th?” he asked with dread. Ian grinned so hard the corners of his mouth fucking  _ ached. _

“Is  _ that  _ what you’ve been actin all weird about?!” Mickey cried, eyes wide. Ian shrugged, smile getting inexplicably wider. “I thought we didn’t  _ do  _ birthdays?” Mickey said in confusion.

“We’ve never had the chance,” Ian shrugged. “You went to juvie so that took from both our first birthdays together, then you went  _ back  _ to juvie and missed the second round, then I had run away to the Army and missed both of them  _ again,  _ and then I was manic as  _ fuck  _ and so we were doing only God knows what that day, and then, well… You know the rest.” Mickey’s face softened as realization seemed to hit him that they really never  _ had  _ had the opportunity.

“I mean… birthdays weren’t really a big thing at our house anyway… The only time we really had a ‘party’ was when Dad was locked up and Mom wasn’t too distracted. She mostly did em for Iggy and Mandy.”

“Well, I’ve got some things up my sleeve for the day,” Ian replied proudly. Mickey looked uncomfortable, but shyly happy. Ian shuffled forward, a little shy himself, and placed a sweet kiss on Mickey’s lips. They both smiled at each other for a brief moment and Ian turned to finish getting ready for the day. 

………

“Milkovich, you got a visitor,” one of the nicer guards announced at their usual table. Iggy and Mickey exchanged glances and looked up at the guard, the ‘which one?’ obvious without either of them opening their mouths to ask. “Mikhailo Milkovich,” the guard clarified. Mickey’s brows drew and then they released and he turned to Ian in accusation. The former-ginger’s grin was of the shit-eating variety and Mickey didn’t know whether to punch that look off his face for to kiss it off. Who in the world did he get to visit?

He followed the guard, endured the strip search, and waited another few minutes with the anxiety tearing at his stomach. Who could possibly suddenly want to see him? Iggy was the only person who even sometimes visited him last time he was down, and no one knew he was down…

The familiar face almost knocked him straight on his ass. 

“Mandy?” Mickey asked dumbly, not even caring that she couldn’t have possibly heard him. Still she laughed, her eyes glinting with amusement and…  _ joy.  _ He glanced back at the guards and noticed he was the only inmate still standing and finally stepped forward to accept his visit. He couldn’t even imagine the wondrous look on his own face but he knew he looked downright dorky based on the slightly mocking slant of her chin and smirk. He picked up the phone and watched carefully as she mimed the motion.

“Hey, Mickey,” her low voice hummed through the receiver. It wasn’t the same sound her voice usually carried, but goddammit it was good to hear nevertheless.

“Mandy! I — ”

“Iggy finally called. Let me know you were here and that Ian was planning some big stuff for your birthday and that he wanted one of those things to be  _ me! _ ” Mickey had to snap his mouth shut as he realized it was dropped halfway open.

“I…  _ Jesus _ , how’re you? I, Iggy told us you’re knocked up?” Mandy laughed and looked affectionately down at her stomach.

“Yeah, about six months now.”

“And the guy?” Mickey blurted. She smiled warmly at him, softening at her brother’s concern.

“Real good. He took interest in my photography and showed my pictures to some big-shots in New York. Told me if I could do that with a shitty iPhone, who knew what I could do with a  _ real  _ camera.”

“Iggy said you met him through work…” Mandy rolled her eyes, exasperated.

“I swear that boy only listens to a quarter of a conversation.” Mickey laughed in agreement. “I’d  _ said  _ I met him while on a break between clients from work. And he actually didn’t mind what I did. He respected me for it, actually. It was nice to not be looked down on for doing what I had to do, you know?” Mickey’s brows rose in surprise and appreciation.

“Yeah… Yeah, I do know…” Ian had never looked down on him or any of the Milkoviches for doing what they had to do to get by. Ian knew that he had no room to. They’d always pushed each other to do better but there was never any judgement and for Mandy to have someone like that… “And he don’t beat on you or anything? Doesn’t go snooping through your phone or tellin you when to be home by or anything?” Mandy shook his head and Mickey smiled. He already liked this guy.

“He checks up just because of  _ this,”  _ she replied, gesturing down to her stomach, “but he doesn’t give a shit where I am or what I’m doing so long as I’m not doing anything to hurt the baby. And he knows I won’t.”

“So you’re happy?” Mickey asked. Mandy smiled and nodded.

“I’m happy. Are you happy, Mickey?” Mickey froze for a second. No one had ever really given a shit about if he was happy. What  _ was  _ happiness? How did you know the difference between apathy and contentedness? How did you know the difference between happiness and just being high on a moment? He really didn’t know.

“The happiest I’ve been in a long time,” he finally answered. Mandy looked a little sad at his answer but nodded anyway.

…….

Ian couldn’t stop running his hand over his freshly buzzed hair. It felt  _ so  _ good to be a redhead again. It was weird to see a stranger looking back in the mirror with your  _ natural  _ hair color, but he’d been with the black hair for so long that this was now foreign to him. At least he didn’t look sickly all the damn time now, so that was something.

“Quit running your fingers over it, you’re going to make it all gross,” Iggy called to Ian through the door to his cell. Ian laughed and turned to face the Milkovich. 

“I know, it’s just weird.”

“You act like this is the first time you ever buzzed your hair.” Iggy walked in and dumped the supplies Ian had asked him to store for him on the bed.

“No, it’s just been a while!” Ian argued. Iggy shrugged in return and Ian rolled his eyes, grabbing the supplies. “Go distract the guards so I can get this going,” Ian ordered. Iggy smirked at Ian’s irritation and sauntered out of the cell. He piled all of the ingredients into the cup and casually made his way down the stairs to sneak into the kitchen while Iggy talked to the guard closest to him. He held the cup behind his back and leaned against the wall until the guard across the block turned his gaze to watch one of the poker games and darted in where Said was waiting.

"Thanks, Said!" Ian grinned, crouching beneath the serving bar to start mixing in the beige cup.

"Nah, thank _you! _My knee feels _so _much better!" Ian expressed his gladness and reached into the cooler with milk cartons to add to the mix. "Think you need sugar?" Said asked. Ian shrugged.

"We don't have it. But these chocolate chips oughta sweeten it good. Ian grinned as he dropped them into the slurry of flour and milk. He stirred the mixture with the spork he had swiped the other day when he had employed Said in this whole surprise.

"Keep watch for guards," Ian requested as he darted deeper into the kitchen to crouch under the microwave. Sixty seconds should be enough for this tiny cup, Ian figured as he popped the cup into the machine and punched in the numbers. _Shit, this fucker was loud! _Ian peeked behind his hiding place but Said didn't even flinch so maybe the sound didn't carry as badly as Ian thought it would. The minute was _agonizing _as Ian kept watch. Once the timer beeped, he ripped the door open and was relieved that the noise stopped at the same time. He exhaled a panicked breath and carefully removed the cup from the microwave, gently closing the door and waddling lowly through the kitchen to avoid being seen.

"Looks like your friend has run out of ways to distract the guards..." Said reported. _Fuck_, he'd worried about that. 

"What do I owe you if I ask you to help him?" Said looked down at Ian, still crouched low behind the bar.

"A bottle of Jack! You're crazy if you think I'm gonna risk anything dealin with those psychos!" Ian exhaled in a rush and quickly thought of what he might have to offer... But of course he didn't really have anything. 

"Fine," Ian huffed and slowly stood to full height to check the positioning of the guards. He was back in basic training, figuring out how to assess everyone's positions and how best to infiltrate the enemy territory. He poked his head from behind the kitchen wall caught Iggy's attention. Iggy's eyes lit with recognition and gestured like he was saying he was going to punch someone, colliding a closed fist against his other palm. No idea what that meant... but he had the guard's attention again. Enough that the guy even called his nearest neighbor over. Good... this was good.

But then there was still the hawk eyes in the bubble and the other guard across the room. A thought suddenly occurred to him and he unbuttoned the top five buttons on his uniform, tucked the cup to rest on the elastic waistband in the center of the uniform, and pressed his arms at his side to keep everything in place. It was genius, but _fuck _was the cup hot!

Probably too quickly to be casual, Ian strolled out of the kitchen and took the steps two at a time as slowly as possible. By a _miracle_, he did not catch anyone's notice and darted into their cell a free man.

As though on cue, Mickey waltzed into their cell looking fuckin... _refreshed. _That was the perfect word. Ian smiled at him.

"How was it?"

"You... You shaved your head while I was gone?" He blurted. Ian laughed. Oh, yeah.

"Yeah, you said you wanted the red back, so... Here's one of your birthday presents!" Mickey huffed out an awkward laugh. "What?" Ian asked worriedly. 

"Nothin, it's just... God, when's the last time you shaved your head?" Ian thought back.

"Junior year?"

"Well..." Mickey took three steps forward so he could run his palm over the coarse texture of his shaved hair. "At least you weren't lyin about being a natural ginger, huh? Might not like you anymore." Ian barked out a laugh.

"Oh yeah? You wouldn't like me if I was a natural brunette?" Mickey grimaced in thought.

"_Miight _be able to work with brown, but blonde is a hard no." Ian just shook his head and repeated his question about his visit with Mandy.

"She's good, and it was good to see her. It's only been, God... Four years?" Ian nodded sadly. It had been not quite that long for Ian, but it had still been entirely too long. "She says she'll be back to visit you and Ig before she leaves to go home." Ian nodded again, but in excitement.

"That's great!" Mickey looked quizzically at Ian struggling with the cup in his uniform. 

"Was I interruptin something?" Mickey asked in confusion. 

"Just one sec..." Ian grunted, slipping his hand into his uniform to produce the cup cake. Mickey's brows shot up.

"How--?"

Iggy darted into the cell.

"Dammit, asshole, you were gonna start without me?!"

"It was _my _idea!" Ian laughed with irritation.

"My muscle!" Iggy fought back. Ian rolled his eyes.

"Yes, he got you the chocolate," Ian acknowledged to Mickey. He wasn't going to be a poor sport by rubbing in that _he _had got the flour, milk, spork, and fuckin _microwave_ to make it a thing in the first fuckin place. "It's not a whole cake, and there's no wishing on a candle, but..." Mickey waved off Ian's shy awkwardness and accepted the cup.

"This is _way _more than I would've expected, Ian." Mickey replied softly. "Thanks," he turned this to Ian and Iggy both and Ian produced the final spare spork. Mickey's blush burned brightly on his alabaster cheeks and it made his stomach do somersaults to not only see Mickey so happy, but to know that _he _was the one to _make _Mickey that happy. Mickey took a bite of the cake and nodded in appreciation, then looked in the cup and barked out a laugh. Oh, shit. Ian and Iggy both looked inside and joined in the laughter.

"Okay, so... it's cake soup," Iggy teased.

"I thought sixty seconds would be enough!" Ian groaned sadly, but still through a laugh.

"It won't kill me," Mickey soothed, scooping some of the slightly formed slurry of a cake into his mouth. "Actually... call me crazy, but I like it better."

"Bullshit!" Ian and Iggy cried at the same time. Mickey shrugged and scrambled the contents up with the spork some more and held out some to Ian to taste. He examined the stuff warily but, knowing there was no way to get salmonella or whatever from this stuff, accepted the bite. It was a little bitter from lack of sugar, but the melted chocolate added just enough sweetness to keep it from being gross.

"Wow, it's actually not bad!" Ian laughed. Mickey nodded and finished off the contents with a contented pop of his mouth. Iggy shook his head.

"It must be a gay thing, cuz I ain't eating uncooked food."

"Bitch you used to eat beans straight outta the can, the fuck're you talking about?" Mickey shot back. Iggy shrugged.

"It was cooked at one point." Mickey rolled his eyes and turned back to Ian.

"Thanks," Mickey murmured shyly to Ian. Ian grinned and kissed Mickey chastely.

……..

The rest of the day was taking it easy in the cell, playing charades and would you rather until count. 

"There's one more surprise for you..." Ian murmured once their door shut for count. Mickey's brow quirked. "It's stuff I would've got you if we were on the outside, or at least something I could've got you. Carl got it for me to give to you. If you want it now or later it's up to you." Mickey sighed sadly. "What?"

"I just feel like an ass for throwin a fit earlier this week... I was really thinkin that you were already getting sick of me or somethin," Mickey laughed at the thought now. Ian's mouth quirked in sadness. Yeah, that accusation had hurt.. but he wasn't going to pretend that he didn't know where it came from. "And then you go and do all this..."

"It's a _fraction _of what you deserve," Ian murmured. "Puttin up with all my shit and worryin about me all the time... I never wanted that for you but --" Mickey shook his head as though begging Ian to stop.

"We take care of each other. That's the deal. You don't _owe _me for helpin you, it's just what we're supposed to do." Ian shook his head back. He didn't want to fight with him, though, and so he just leaned in and kissed him. The kiss was his thanks for everything he'd done for him because he knew that he would never actually accept a verbal one. The effort he put into to celebrate his birthday was also what he _should _do, but it was also what he wanted to do because Mickey fucking deserved it. But saying that would have Mickey shifting around in discomfort, so Ian just kissed him to set him at ease. Kisses were easy now. Words they still had to work on.

Even easier than kisses, though, was sex. That had always been the simplest part of their relationship. They just _clicked _together like fastening two matching puzzle pieces together. And so when Mickey opened his gift after dinner and got uncomfortable with the emotions coursing through him, Ian flipped open the small sketchpad Carl had purchased, and flipped to the first of many _other _surprises. Mickey smirked and pretended not to see as he picked up one of two charcoal pencils that Carl had also gotten for him.

"You know... I never got the chance to draw you," Mickey wandered aloud casually.

"You wanna draw me like one of your French girls?" Ian teased. Mickey scoffed and shoved Ian's shoulder playfully.

"Fuck... No! We are _not _that gay couple who fantasizes about what we would have done if we'd met on the _Titanic! _We're _not _that couple!" Ian's heart actually fuckin fluttered at 'couple' coming out of Mickey's mouth. Externally, though, he just laughed at Mickey's scolding.

"Whatever you say, but you _did _tear up when she said 'you jump I jump,' I fuckin saw you."

"Fuck off, I'd just yawned--"

"I saw no yawn!" Ian shot back, unable to contain his laughter as Mickey flushed. 

The lights clicked off and they continued grinning at each other through the darkness. Mickey set the box down on top of their locker and sank his hand behind his pillow to withdraw the old packet of lube they'd never been able to use until this moment. Their mutual desire crackled between them and they were drawn to each other like magnets.

Mickey leaned forward first, but Ian put his hand on his chest, holding him back to gaze intently into Mickey's eyes before planting a searing kiss on him. Mickey actually fucking _sighed _into Ian's mouth as their lips met, and separated, and met again in a sort of dance. Ian's hand on Mickey's chest snaked up to cup around the back of Mickey's neck, fingers extending into Mickey's hair. Below him, Mickey shifted so he was facing Ian who turned to hover over Mickey. One leg between Mickey's and the other on the outside to distribute his weight, Ian carefully unbuttoned Mickey's uniform and peeled it away as Mickey pulled his arms through and started working on Ian's own uniform. Ian sat up to feed his own arms through the top of his uniform and push the fabric down to mid-waist. Before he could rejoin Mickey on the mattress, the older man tore Ian's undershirt off and stayed seated long enough for Ian to tug his off. They slowly sank back to the bed and Ian laid a gentle kiss over Mickey's heart, the pulse thrumming against his lips. He traced a cautious finger over the ink on his chest and laid another kiss against the nipple just below his fingers, lightly brushing his tongue over the soft skin. He hummed into Mickey's skin and heard Mickey release another sigh, feeling a response in Mickey's body against his core. Ian smirked and continued kissing down Mickey's chest and abdomen to tease his navel. Instinctually, Mickey pressed his hips forward and groaned.

"You know we can just get to it, right?" Mickey muttered. Ian paused as he was about to pull the fabric of his partner's uniform aside and looked up at him.

"Well, sure, but then it wouldn't be 'birthday sex' would it?" Mickey smirked.

"Oh, is that what we're doing?" Ian hummed against Mickey's stomach in answer and Mickey's fingers cradled Ian's head. Through the fabric, Ian toyed with the steadily growing erection, mouthing at it and teasing him with his fingers. Mickey groaned in impatience and quickly moved his hands to where the top of his uniform was bunched at his waist and pushed the fabric down, stripping the material off before Ian could stop him. Ian laughed and returned his lips to Mickey's, kissing his impatient boyfriend with complete _joy _in how wild he was driving him. He ground his hips against Mickey's drawing out another breathy groan and inspiring Mickey to spread his legs wantonly. It got Ian high to see Mickey want him so badly, so openly.

"You really don't want me to play with you?" Ian asked against his lips. Mickey moaned as though caught between the choices.

"It's been so long, Ian..." he could almost hear Mickey say "and I missed you," but it stayed trapped on his tongue. 

"I know, that's why I want to make it really count," Ian murmured back, taking Mickey's bottom lip between his for a brief kiss, rolling his tongue over the skin before releasing it. 

"You can make it really count by fucking me against that fucking wall," Mickey groaned. Ian could almost hear the record scratch for how quickly he changed his pace. _Alright, all you had to do was ask..._

"Then turn over," Ian demanded, his voice hoarse with unfiltered _lust. _

Mickey's brows shot up in shock but he followed Ian's instructions and turned over, passing Ian the lube packet when he returned to the mattress after stripping off his own uniform, tossing both of their sets to the floor. He accepted the lube packet and ripped it open unceremoniously. As he stroked himself with the slick substance, he kissed and nipped at Mickey's _perfect _ass, taking absolutely no time to then touch his tongue to Mickey's opening. The older man keened at the new contact and clearly struggled to not shove his hips back into Ian's face--not that he would have minded. With his slicked up fingers, Ian started applying pressure against Mickey's opening, giving the man time to relax his body, to prepare to accept him. He allowed his tongue to slide inside for a quick taste and kissed the slick skin before slowly entering him with the first finger. Mickey's moan as Ian entered him was as sinfully good as the smoothest shot of whisky and Ian groaned at the sound of Mickey getting lost in sensation. Mickey's chest collapsed to the mattress, his fingers digging into the pillow in his effort to keep quiet. Ian was panting hard at just how _heady _ this experience was already. Ian's finger slid easily against Mickey's opening in a smooth rhythm and Mickey visibly struggled not to rock back on him.

"The longer you hold off, the longer we can stay against that wall," Ian tempted. Mickey raised up enough to turn to face Ian.

"Wait, you seriously wanna try that?" Mickey asked, astounded. Ian added the second finger and smiled wickedly as Mickey's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fought another one of his sinful noises.

"Fuck yes I do," Ian panted lustily. Mickey collapsed back to the mattress, letting his head rest against his folded arms. As he added the third finger, Mickey's movements on his hand slowed down, taking his time. _Good... _Ian thought as he eased his fingers along Mickey's entrance. _Wanna make this last as long as possible. _

It was so tempting to just switch to his dick. God, he wanted him so much and he was so hard he throbbed with need. But he lay his forehead against Mickey's lower back and forced himself to listen to Mickey's body, wait for him to accept all three easily. Mickey groaned and keened as he started pushing back against him again, but Ian could still feel a little resistance that he knew they needed to work through before trying anything else.

"Fuck, Ian..." He sighed above him. Ian kissed one of the dimples just above his ass and sighed against the skin there.

"I know... Just keep relaxing, Mick," Ian practically pleaded. Mickey's hole squeezed around the three fingers as he hit his prostate and another higher-pitched sigh escaped him. Slowly, Mickey started picking up the pace against his fingers until he was fucking himself on them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ian laughed, sitting up to make the switch. Mickey breathed out in exasperation.

"Well, you were taking too long!"

"Well fuck me for not wanting to hurt you!" Ian laughed as he removed his fingers and rest the head of himself at Mickey's opened entrance. Mickey, however, pulled away and stood in front of Ian before Ian could even turn around. When he turned to face Mickey, the first thing he saw was his very, very hard erection. Ian released a groan of his own at the sight... he was beautiful. His whole naked body was fucking _art. _Ian sat on the bed and pulled forward to sit on the edge. Mesmerized by Mickey, Ian leaned forward and took him into his mouth, but Mickey only allowed Ian a _lick _before taking his head between his hands, pushing him back, and climbing on Ian's lap. _Oh..._ Mickey grabbed the discarded packet of lube and smiled at the little amount still left for him to apply to Ian. 

Ian held on to Mickey's waist as the older man guided himself onto Ian, gliding easily down to the hilt in one solid motion. Both men clutched each other as they joined, both breathless at the warmth, the stretch, the vulnerability, the unity.

"Fuck..." Ian sighed against Mickey's chest. Mickey swallowed hard and tilted his hips forward and backward, stretching himself the teeniest bit more to accept Ian even more comfortably. He moaned with each movement, sounding frustrated as fuck, and Ian knew it was because Mickey was _always _eager to get to the hard, break-neck paced fucking. Mickey liked oblivion, he liked to be all sensation and to fully relinquish all control and all of reality, throwing it all into pleasure bordering on pain.

As Mickey flexed his thighs to rise up on Ian's cock, Ian sought Mickey's throat with his mouth, delivering kisses and small bites against the most tender parts of his flesh. Each sensation Ian provided, Mickey struggled to swallow a sound until eventually he finally lowered his face to Ian's shoulder and let his teeth dig in to the flesh. _Damn... _Ian thought to himself as he curled his arms to stretch around Mickey's back, pulling him into him, _we have only just gotten started, too... _Ian smirked against Mickey's shoulder and thrust up hard, receiving a sharp cry in return. Ian wasn't even going to shush him tonight. Ian really wasn't worried about the whole block knowing they were fucking. Most of them already knew anyway. 

Mickey ground down hard with each of Ian's thrusts up and they were flying together. Finally, Ian wrapped his hands around the backs of Mickey's thighs which tightened around Ian's waist. As gently but firmly as he could, Ian slammed Mickey's back against the wall. Mickey just sighed and searched for Ian's mouth to kiss him as Ian picked up the pace against the wall, drilling up into Mickey, feeling absolutely no resistance to the motion. Mickey's breath jilted with each of Ian's in-strokes and Ian sealed their mouths together for a searing kiss until he hit Mickey's prostate and Mickey bursted out of the kiss with a heavy moan.

"_Fuuuck…" _Mickey moaned, head thrown back against the wall for a brief moment before lowering his head back to the top of Ian's shoulder. His arms were draped lazily over Ian's shoulders, one hand cradling the back of his neck. With most of Mickey's weight supported by the wall and Mickey's help by keeping his thighs tight against Ian's waist, Ian was free to his rhythm, and Mickey was soaking it all up gratefully.

Tension tears started leaking from Mickey's eyes as he promised Ian that he was close as Ian regularly thrust against his prostate. His tattooed hands squeezed Ian's freckled shoulders and the top of his head as he found his release, Ian covering his mouth with his to muffle as much of the sounds as he could. Mickey kissed him back fervently until Ian found his own release, euphoria flooding his senses and slowing their bodies.

As they settled from their highs, their kisses slowed to the languid, sensual ones. The ones that spoke to their familiarity with each other, their peace with each other, their satisfaction in the moment.

"Fuck..." Mickey sighed, his whole body still tensed around Ian. Ian grinned, kissed the center of Mickey's chest, and carried him back to bed... careful as he slipped out of him not to hurt him, reminding the exhausted birthday boy to relax.

Ian's body hummed with satisfaction and love as he took care of Mickey's body afterwards. He kissed away Mickey's tension tears, gently massaged the tense muscles of Mickey's legs, and cleaned their semen from Mickey's body.

"What're you doing?" Mickey demanded as he returned to consciousness.

"Taking care of you," Ian laughed, laying down beside him and running a tender hand down Mickey's bicep.

"You already did that, I should be takin care o' you," Mickey mumbled sleepily. Ian laughed.

"I'm fine.... besides, it's _your _birthday," Ian reminded. Mickey rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, but _you _did all the work," Mickey argued. Ian laughed as he tried to picture a Mickey who just laid back and let Ian do all the work. And image could not pop up. Mickey Milkovich was _no _pillow princess.

"I think it was pretty equal, Mick. You were using me as your own personal toy there for a minute...." Mickey smirked with pride.

"Eh, I do that anyway. _You _had me up against the wall for God knows how long." Ian settled into the mattress and gazed lovingly at this man. This _beautiful, _sexy, funny, _amazing _man.

"It was nothing." Mickey's eyes opened sleepily, but sultry, and his brow arched.

"Nothing, huh?" He exhaled contently and draped an arm over Ian's waist, closing his eyes and settling against his chest. "So... That can be a regular thing?" Ian hummed.

"Definitely."

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to tip your fanfic writer! We accept kudos and constructive feedback! <3


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